thing you made of those hands, Bessie. We must keep the drawings.
Why!--where is Sibyl's?"

"Mr. Leslie took it away;--he laid a paper over it and put it in his
pocket, just as though it belonged to him," said Tom; "but of all the
contributions, _I_ liked Mr. Gay's 'Chicago' the best."

"And I liked Mr. Leslie's story," said Aunt Faith; "it is singular he
never before mentioned his army life."

"Oh! he isn't one of the talking kind like Gideon Fish," said Hugh.
"Gid is always telling everybody about his 'emotional nature,' and his
inner 'consciousness.' He seems to think his mental condition, a
subject of public interest, and constantly sends out bulletins for the
benefit of anxious friends. His manuscript was poetical, but I took
good care to hide it in the bottom of the basket. By the way, Sibyl,
how did you like Graham Marr's Lyric? Pretty deep, wasn't it?"

Sibyl was arranging the books and music in their proper places. "You
know I am not myself poetical," she answered calmly; "but I like Mr.
Marr, and therefore I like his verses, Hugh."

"Oh, Sibyl! surely not so well as Mr. Leslie's story?" said Bessie
earnestly.

"Poetry and prose cannot be compared, neither can Mr. Marr and Mr.
Leslie be compared," said Sibyl; "they are very different."

"I should think they were!" said Hugh.